


forced wisdom

by ashinan



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Body Horror, Dubcon Kissing, Episode Related, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Soft Ending, episode 54, forced confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-18 05:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18114647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashinan/pseuds/ashinan
Summary: Caleb fails his save.





	forced wisdom

**Author's Note:**

> dahlings! I know this is down to the wire hahaha before the live ep but I wrote about what if? caleb? failed his will save in ep 54??? and it kind of morphed into...this? ANYWAY. enjoy friends. I originally had a sad ending but I dont do well with sad endings so I changed it whoop enjoy it

They still don’t know what they’re fighting, what could possibly be hiding in the room alongside Umadon. The eerie blue light could be anything really, though Fjord has a suspicion. Tales from other sailors, of humanoid beings swaying and beckoning and taking on an ethereal glow, of opal eyes and sharp, spindly fingernails, and a jaw full of sharp serrated teeth. The ocean wasn’t forgiving; her depths hid creatures that were better suited to the elemental planes. And if Fjord’s suspicions are correct, their Bugbear friend may be the feast for the land cousins of the siren.

Jester flings open the door and the sweet scent of her magic covers the rancid decay of Umadon’s home. Chittering laughter flows out of the yawning doorway and Jester steps back quickly. Darkness seeps from the interior, a chill followed by a flash of heat, and Fjord summons the falchion. Waits. Repeats Vandren’s rules for breaking a siren’s thrall over and over in his head:

Distract, contain, destroy. If it works for sirens, it’ll work for incubi and succubi. As long as it doesn’t grab one of them; Fjord’s never managed to save one of the sailors already enthralled by a siren. Vandren had managed it once, with a sailor that had been desperately in love with him. Fjord prepares.

Fjord gets his first look at the critter and all his fears come to fruition. While sirens hide behind their meat puppets like the ambush hunters they are, their land cousins are better known amongst the populations for their luring tendencies. Books upon books have been written, both fanciful and educational, revolving around the innate ability of an incubi or succubae. Probably a ton of illicit material in the smut shops his friends frequent. While Fjord had only encountered two siren kills in his life, the experience had left him firmly in the camp of: nope, no way, no how.  

What fills the corner of the room is blood red and sickly, all its joints just enough out of place to be uncanny. Tiny scales of red and black fleck over its eelish skin, and the two wide eyes swim with mercurial blindness. Flared leathery wings arch like an umbrella along the ceiling, and its knees bend backwards, vicious claws dug into the wall. Its smile spreads too wide over its angular face.

Before Fjord can react, the incubus lunges from the corner straight toward Caleb. Thin, spindly fingers latch onto his face, the very tips of its claws digging into Caleb’s temples and then _in to_ Caleb’s temples. Fjord shouts in horror. Caleb’s face goes completely lax, the arcane that lives as electric fire in his eyes snuffing out like a candle, and he reaches up to hold onto disfigured wrists. There’s something almost eager in the twist of his brows, in the parting of his lips, in how wide his pupils go. Trancelike. The creature lands, wings flared up over its jagged back, features alight with disgusted delight.

“Isn’t that interesting,” it purrs, wings shuddering. Caleb visibly shivers. Its voice – changes, lightens, alters as pale red energy pulses from where its claws are still buried in Caleb’s temples. The words ring familiar to Fjord – no, not the words. The accent. “That’s interesting. Interesting. Oh, little wizard, aren’t you just a fountain of _desire_.”

That’s Fjord’s voice. His real voice, not a stranger, not Vandren’s; that’s Fjord’s _voice_.

Small patches of skin blister and puff up on the incubus, distending thin skin thinner. The change oozes over it, the blisters popping and thick swaths of slowly decaying flesh falling off in wet clumps. The knees crack and shift forward, the claws shorten, the height reduces. Bones snap and realign, clothing sprouts and weaves up to cover new skin. More flesh falls. Clotted blood splatters over Caleb’s shoes, gore wetting the floor as the change comes faster. Soft breeches encase long legs. A white shirt, laces at the throat undone, flows like silk. A belt with a scabbard, beautifully etched with symbols of the sea upon the leather.

The tips of the claws remain in Caleb’s temples, the red glow distorting his features. The rapture in his gaze, however, shines clear. Entranced. Still. Watching, as more flesh sloughs off. Unseeing to the horror before him and only cognizant of what the incubus wants him to see.

The new skin darkens. Blooms like forest leaves, splotches of green merging and connecting together. Jaw bones shift and crack, the snout reduces to a normal nose, the eyes fill with molten gold. Telltale scars divot the skin over the mouth and the eyebrow. A shock of dark hair grows, with that familiar white forelock, grey at the temples, and in desperate need of a haircut.

The incubus completes the transformation. A duplicate of Fjord stands before Caleb, albeit wearing less armour, but every detail exact. Invisible wind causes the shirt to ripple and sway as though out on the open sea. Fjord stares, the falchion loose in his fingers, as the incubus version of himself slides its nails out of Caleb’s temples. It cradles Caleb’s jaw, thumbs smoothing over his cheekbones. The absolute _smitten_ expression on Fjord’s stolen face is - Gods above, if that’s how he gazes at Caleb, his blatant adoration is downright embarrassing.

Except Caleb has a similarly embarrassing expression on his face.

The incubus bends and Caleb rocks up onto his toes to meet it. Even understanding that Caleb is enthralled, the sight of him curling sooty fingers into the lapel of the incubus’ shirt, the way his eyes flutter shut, the parting of soft lips, has jealousy and horror bubble up in Fjord’s chest. The incubus smiles, gaze flicking up to meet Fjord’s. In that moment, Fjord _hates_. He grinds his teeth. The incubus holds Caleb’s chin with its thumb and forefinger, dipping to finally meet Caleb.

That same faint glow of red blooms from where their lips touch. Caleb hums, spine going soft, chasing when the incubus pulls back. Another kiss, this one deeper, possessive, and the delicate moan that leaves Caleb - _Gods_ , Fjord can’t catch a breath, static in his head and heart a thunderous howl. The rest of the Nein remain just as frozen, trapped in a different way. Caleb’s surrender is gorgeous, the trust spread wide across his face beautiful, and the way he leans into _Fjord_ \- no, not Fjord, that’s not Fjord. Fuck. _Fuck_.

As they part, the faint red glow pulls from Caleb and settles back with the incubus. The change isn’t immediate; Caleb thankfully doesn’t immediately drop dead from an incubus’ kiss. But the thrall is fully in effect, of that Fjord has no doubt.

The incubus presses its lips to Caleb’s forehead. “Hello, sweetheart.”

Caleb whispers something back in Zemnian, soft and vulnerable and so dotting that it damn near breaks Fjord. This isn’t right. It’s not right. Caleb doesn’t know – he _can’t_ know, caught under the thrall of a being solely designed to entrance and entice. Fjord might not understand Zemnian, but he flushes at the tone, at the adoration. That pining bubble he spends so much time shoving aside swells in his chest, mixing with the horror, the _wrongness_ of all of this. The incubus had taken this form for a reason. An obvious reason.

“Caleb!” Nott shouts. He doesn’t react, fixated on the creature wearing Fjord’s skin and Nott calls again, desperate, “Caleb, that’s not Fjord!”

A ripple cascades over Caleb’s face, a twist of resistance even as the incubus dips to kiss him again. With that same breathless sigh, Caleb leans into it. Fjord’s heart aches.

Nott is the one that breaks the stalemate, an arrow sinking into the incubus’ unarmoured shoulder. The shout of pain ricochets throughout the small room in _Fjord’s voice_ , and Caleb whirls. The air shimmers around him as his fingers burn bright with sparks, the ash sinking deeper into his skin, magic jumping from his lips. Nott scrambles backwards. That same flicker registers and with a minute shift of his feet, the spell fires wide. Sweat collects and drips down Caleb’s temples. The incubus slides a palm along Caleb’s back, fingers spread wide over that threadbare coat, and smiles at Fjord.

“We have to get away from them,” the incubus says. Caleb shudders, his gaze shifting back to hollow yet dotting, and the incubus purrs. “I have your back.”

“You son of a bitch,” Fjord snarls. Everything within him strains toward Caleb, toward the obvious danger he’s in, and how the spell has removed all choice from him. Fjord needs to get Caleb away, needs to get him safe. The incubus is too close; there’s no doubt it will use Caleb as its own meat shield to make a clean get away. No way will Fjord allow that.

The incubus laughs, surprised, pleased. Its voice shifts back to that grating hiss, and it says, “His mind is delicious; the _need_ inside him could feed both of us for years but I am not so hungry as to throw my life away for a simple meal. Allow me to leave and I’ll consider giving him back to you.”

“Give him back first!” Jester says, her lollipop rising behind her in all its sugary sweet malice. “He’s ours!”

The incubus tuts, slipping seamlessly back into Fjord’s voice. “They’re not going to let us go without a fight.”

“I –” Caleb starts, brows furrowing. Fjord steps lightly to the side and Beau mirrors him. Yasha stands in the same spot, shoulders heaving with fury, her gaze fixated on the being wearing Fjord’s face. The Magician’s Judge crackles. The incubus slides fingers into Caleb’s hair and whispers in his ear. The confusion blooming on his face clears and he nods, that same buildup of magic heating the air.

“What’s the plan?” Nott whispers into Fjord’s head. He doesn’t startle, but just. She’s hidden away somewhere now, tucked aside but likely with a clear bead on the incubus. “We have to get Caleb clear. I won’t hurt him.”

“None of us want to,” Fjord murmurs. “These critters are just like sirens; we have to separate him from the incubus and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Nott’s quiet for a moment and then: “Don’t hold it against him.”

“What?” Fjord asks. Beau darts past Caduceus and she’s almost in flanking position. Slipping into the shadows, Fjord calculates distance. A Misty Step and then he can implement Vandren’s rules.

Distract, contain, destroy.

Another pause, and then Nott explains, “He didn’t want to distract you with it; he didn’t want to hurt - he doesn’t want to distract _anyone_. He doesn’t think he deserves to care for and be cared for by someone.”  

Stunned, Fjord can only watch as Jester bares her teeth, the air trembling around the incubus before the toll of her bell nearly deafens them all. With that distraction, her lollipop sails forward and winds up, the glitter of sugar twisting into devastating spikes. Caleb jumps in front of the incubus.

“No!” Fjord shouts, and Jester hauls the magic back at the last moment, bouncing off an invisible shield that Caleb wills into existence. The incubus grins, delighted, that too wide smile that contorts Fjord’s stolen face into a nightmare. Caleb sets his feet. Digs into his component pockets. Another flicker across his face and the guano he’d dug out falls to the floor. Instead, another Firebolt shoots from sooty fingertips and Jester side steps it easy.

Caleb’s pulling his punches, that much is clear. The kind of fire power coursing through him would reduce a good number of the Mighty Nein to ash; his fingers jerk when he yanks out more components for his spells, scattering them to the floor with a bitten off curse. Some part of him actively fights the incubus’ thrall. Doesn’t stop him from flinging up another shield to protect the incubus when Yasha finally gets a clear shot.

Yasha swears, yanking her sword back, inches from Caleb’s shimmering shield. Fjord darts around the side while Jester and Caduceus block the entrance to the bedroom. Beau takes up a flanking position, coming low, but the incubus whirls and catches her staff with its fake falchion.

“You’d risk hurting him just to kill me?” the incubus goads, Fjord’s real voice jarring and impossible. Beau falters. Fjord grits his teeth. The incubus smiles, giddy and delighted; vicious. “Oh, you don’t like it when I talk do you? Or that I’m wearing his face?”

“ _Shut up,_ ” Beau snarls, pivoting on the ball of her foot for a solid roundhouse kick. Caleb’s shield blooms into being. The attack rebounds and Beau catches herself on her staff, whirling into a defensive stance. The incubus draws Caleb close, lips against Caleb’s ear, and Caleb sways into it. His gaze goes hazy and soft. Beau barks Caleb’s name, but he doesn’t react.

Nott leaps onto the incubus’ back. Caleb whirls and Fjord takes his chance. Vandren’s rules play loud in his head: distract, contain, and destroy. The extra bit that Vandren had quietly told him later, after Jack had been saved by Vandren’s own quick thinking, churns his stomach. Confuse the senses, Vandren had said. If the creature takes on the visage of someone nearby, counteract the spell with the real person. Caleb isn’t paying attention to anyone but Nott, his fingers moving and lips twisting with the words for another spell.

Quickly, Fjord hauls Caleb backwards, arm tight around Caleb’s waist and his other palm sliding over Caleb’s eyes. With a thought, the spell activates and they Misty Step away, landing back in the shadows away from the incubus. Caleb curses viciously, tongue heavy with arcane words that blister the air around him.

Vandren’s rules. This has to work. Fjord tucks his mouth close to Caleb’s ear and says in his real voice, “Shh, sweetheart, I have you.”

Immediately, Caleb stills. The spell fizzles, no longer structurally sound without Caleb’s voice to guide it. His palm curls around Fjord’s wrist at his waist, fingers blistering hot from the spell he cancelled. His lashes flutter against Fjord’s palm. Fjord holds. Caleb violently trembles, a full body shudder, as the magic from the spell mixes with the knowledge that the voice speaking to him is Fjord’s. Fjord adjusts his grip, locking Caleb in place.

Now with Caleb out of the way, Yasha charges without hesitation. The incubus readies the falchion, and a rumble of dissent builds in Fjord’s mind, the connection with Uk’ota fluttering in offence. Yasha parries the incubus’ attack, and retaliates, the Magician’s Judge cutting through cloth and skin. The stolen image of the incubus wavers for a single moment before solidifying again. The cry of pain is eerily familiar, blood pouring from the wound across its chest as it staggers. Caleb immediately strains forward, turmoil writ all over his face, the spell tugging but Fjord keeping a tight hold.

Filled with strained confusion, unable to remove Fjord’s palm from his eyes, Caleb says, “Fjord? What is happening? Why are they hurting you?”

“I’m fine, love, just keep listening to my voice,” Fjord soothes, desperate to maintain his composure. He rests his forehead against Caleb’s temple, keeping up a soft litany of words to mask the disturbing cries from the incubus as the rest of the Nein close in. Caleb leans into the touch. Trusting. Flinching after every cry but straining toward Fjord. Gods. Fjord wants so badly it _aches_ , like a fractured rib or a pommel to the gut, rippling out like shockwaves. Not like this though. Not with Caleb under a spell and forced into this public confession.  

The incubus goes down to one knee. Disconcerting as all hell, watching himself be bludgeoned and beat by his friends. The incubus snarls up at Beau; at least it got his stubby tusks right. Beau uses Yasha’s shoulder to gain height before coming down with her heel. It rolls aside at the last minute, falchion thrusting out. It clips Beau’s side. Beau dances back, Yasha sliding into place to defend. The incubus hisses out something in infernal, garbled and furious and still in Fjord’s cadence. Before it can raise the falchion, Jester and Caduceus slam their palms against its back.

Arcs of necromantic magic curl over its shoulders like claws, each tip piercing into flesh. The overwhelming scent of burnt sugar and festering rot floods the room. The incubus shrieks, a mixture of Fjord’s voice and its own, howling in terrible harmony. Caleb sobs, twists away, and tucks his face into Fjord’s throat. His lips move against Fjord’s throat. His fingers twist and pull at Fjord’s armour. Fjord wraps his arms tight around Caleb, talking louder in an attempt to drown out the incubus, and holds.

Caleb whispers, “Please stop hurting him, please stop hurting him, please, please –” before the words dissolve into mournful Zemnian.

The incubus fights to crawl away, but Yasha thrusts the sword through its stomach before it can get far, her sword lodging in the stone beneath it. Yasha’s self-satisfied smile while the thing that wears Fjord’s face is _pinned -_ Fjord squeezes his eyes shut. Caleb’s lost his words. A long, mournful keen wails out of him, and Fjord tucks his face into Caleb’s hair.

With a last twist of Yasha’s sword, the illusion shatters. The incubus dies with a gurgling moan. The skin suit it had been wearing melts off of it like candle wax, puddles of green and crimson and woven fabric rippling out in waves. Its original form is laid bare before it, too, starts to slough off. Immediately, Caleb stiffens. Fjord exhales shakily.

The deafening silence is only interrupted by Umadon’s uncertain whimpers.

“Fjord?” Caleb asks, strangled; a touch manic. He’s marble in Fjord’s hold and it stings. He hasn’t stepped back yet, hasn’t tucked all the parts of him that are now raw and bleeding and visible, back into the depths; he gentles a thumb behind Caleb’s ear. Indulges. Recoils when he cottons on to what he’s doing – there’s no consent here. Fjord’s stomach roils.

He releases Caleb; a part of him howls in despair, and demands with a viciousness Fjord hasn’t experienced since his teenage years. He closes his eyes. Breathes sharp and fast through his nose. Chains his heart back up and gets everything in order just like the clerics taught him all those years ago.

When he opens his eyes, Caleb hasn’t moved. The arcane flare has returned to his gaze, even though it’s directed over Fjord’s shoulder at the wall; he’s flushed from crying, lips bitten red and tear tracks cutting through the mud. He’s so fucking beautiful that Fjord _burns_.

Clearing his throat, Fjord steps past Caleb and toward where the others are waiting in silence. Caleb says nothing. Caduceus’ sympathetic gaze hollows Fjord out further. Beau’s mouth is slightly open, questions practically visible on her tongue, but she swallows them down when Fjord slowly shakes his head. Nott trots past Fjord, her palm reassuring against Fjord’s hip. Yasha bends over the body and Jester –

Gods, this isn’t what he wanted.

He bypasses Yasha and the dead incubus, sick to his stomach and heart heavy in his chest. Umadon quiets as he approaches, eyes catching the light like a scared cat. Fjord sighs. “You shouldn’t have any more nightmares, friend.”

“It was you,” Umadon says, terror clear. Fjord sighs again and rubs at his temples. “But not you!”

“Wasn’t me, nope,” Fjord says. He spends the next few seconds explaining things to Umadon and checking up on him. He’s shaking as well, shoulders drooping; likely they’d fed on him before the Mighty Nein had interrupted. Just like it had fed from Caleb as –

Fjord cuts their conversation off and heads back toward the party. Yasha and Jester talk in low voices with Caduceus, while Beau and Nott share looks from behind Caleb’s back. Caleb hasn’t moved, his back to everyone, shoulders hunched up around his ears.

The fiend has melted into scattered bones and loose red skin. Fjord crouches down beside it, mostly for something to do, gaze unseeing as the remains of the incubus slowly ooze their way toward him. He doesn’t dare look at Caleb. He’s already having a difficult time with every blink, that image of Caleb’s surrender playing behind his eyelids; that soft, breathy noise of pure want that won’t stop bouncing around in Fjord’s head. He despises the arousal that still courses through his blood.  

“Mr. Fjord?” Caduceus asks, folding down beside him. Fjord says nothing, tongue scraping over his stubby tusks. Vandren had explained how the bones of a siren could be used by others to bring it back; whether or not that’s true for incubi and succubi, Fjord’s not willing to risk it.

Fjord clears his throat. “We need to destroy the bones.”

Caduceus nods, slow, but he hasn’t stopped staring at Fjord. His large eyes and quietly understanding expression sets Fjord on edge. He was fine with never having his feelings known; he was fine with Caleb as co-leader and maybe friend; he was fine with shoving aside his wants for the betterment of the group.

The incubus has ruined any future chance.

Standing, Fjord gathers eldritch energy in his hands. Crackles of black and navy blue coalesce into a bubbling mass, Uk’otoa a gleeful thrum in the back of his head. Caduceus steps back. Both blasts crash into the skeleton and the resulting fire of purple-red engulf the dead incubi. Fjord stares into the unusual flames. Ignores the silence that permeates around him.

When nothing remains, Fjord inhales shakily. “All right, the other one escaped during the confusion. Let’s go.”

“Fjord –” Beau starts, but Fjord holds up a hand.

“We can discuss after we’ve taken care of both of them. The succubus will come back to collect its partner; they don’t do well feeding alone.” Fjord strides past her. Beau trots after him, clearly hoping to talk about it _now,_  but Fjord’s not having it. Can’t, really. Not when all his emotions vibrate under his skin like lightning. He needs time. So much time.

Caleb is the last out of the house. Nott tugs him along, her gentle murmur scraping up Fjord inside. He’s pale and obviously shaken; he trips on the last step, Nott catching him with a grunt, and Caleb doesn’t immediately straighten. His hair hangs in sweat soaked strands. His lips tremble. When he meets Fjord’s gaze, the agony and despair in his expression devastates Fjord.

What can Fjord possibly say?

His feet draw him forward. Nott steps aside as Fjord carefully reaches out and steadies Caleb on his feet, hands as gentle and unintrusive as possible. Caleb leans into the touch. His gaze holds Fjord’s. The despair there hasn’t left, and neither has the embarrassment.

Caleb licks his lips. “Fjord -”

“It’s okay,” Fjord says softly, dropping Vandren's accent. Caleb inhales. “I - I’m sorry it had to come out like that.”

Caleb’s bitter laugh cuts into Fjord. “Yes, well. I apologize.”

“Don’t. Don’t. I - can we talk about it after? I want to talk about it after.” Fjord ducks his head. Steps forward until Caleb is forced to tilt his head back to maintain their gaze. His heart rabbits in his chest. Now or never. “Don’t apologize for something we’ve both wanted.”

Surprise ripples over Caleb’s face, shock and uncertainty and the faintest trace of hope. He splays a palm against Fjord’s chest, each finger pressing in until Fjord can feel it. “I heard you. I felt you. When - you grabbed me. You spoke.”

Gently, Fjord covers Caleb’s hand on his chest, and murmurs, “It took my image.”

Caleb quiets. “ _Ja_.”

“Talk about it later?” Fjord repeats.

The smile he gets in return is bright and thankful. Caleb’s eyes drop to Fjord’s mouth and stay there, his own red lips parting, pupils darkening. That liquid heat thunders through Fjord’s blood. Caleb licks his lips and nods. “Later. Alone?”

“Yup, can do that,” Fjord chokes out. Caleb laughs, soft and short and breathy, his eyes lit up with electric fire.

Later. Fjord can handle later. They have a succubus to hunt.

**Author's Note:**

> you can follow me on [my fandom twitter](https://twitter.com/ashinanfandom?s=09) (where I am crying all the time about critrole) or [my nsfw twitter](https://twitter.com/assinan13?s=09)!!


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